


9 years

by Danagirl623



Series: Parentlock [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Dom John, M/M, Not John tho, Oral Sex, Someone is in BIG trouble, Top John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-16 08:09:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14807552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danagirl623/pseuds/Danagirl623
Summary: This was inspired by the FANTABULOUS afternoon I had.... and I'm going to write the fantasy ending I wish i could have had. That will be chapter two.Also, poor Mrs. H! Even in fanfics she doesn't get any lines to say.





	1. Oops

“Please, Papa!” Rosie begged, pulling on his arm. “I just want five more minutes with the ducks. Please.”  
“Rosie, we have to get home. Your Daddy is waiting for us.”  
“Just five more minutes, please. The ducks never let me feed them.” She let go of his hand, and headed back to the pond. She threw herself down on the banks of the pond. She started feeding the ducks the bread.  
Sherlock took a deep breath, reigning his anger in, and turned to her again. “Rosamund Mary-” he started, sternly, but stopped when he realized that his phone was vibrating. It was a call from John. “Hullo, love.” He said, eyeing Rosie.  
“Are you guys on your way, yet? We’re going to be late.”  
“John, I’m trying to get our daughter to leave, but she’s impossible! She’s stuck on the ducks.”  
“Sounds like you, actually.” John laughed, then sighed. “Just try to hurry her along? I’m really excited about tonight’s date.”  
Sherlock walked across the paved path to get out of the way of some exercising mums. “I know you are, and it’s maddening! You won’t tell me a thing about it!” Sherlock said, looking over in Rosie’s general direction.  
“Go get her and come home to me, husband so we can go on our date!” John said, sighing. “I love you.”  
“I love you too!” Sherlock grinned, hanging up the phone. He used both his hands to rub his eyes. “Rosie!” He called. “It’s time to go. Dad’s ready for us.” He tucked his phone in his pocket, and tried to focus his eyes.  
“Rosie!” he called again, scanning the grass by the pond. He walked closer, and searched the water’s edge. There was some mud, but nothing that it looked like a child slipped in. He tried to follow the tracks, but the duck’s webbed feet covered up Rosie’s own. He groaned in frustration, then roared loudly. “ROSAMUND WATSON.”  
He had hoped that she would pop out from behind a tree and say, “I’m here, Papa!” No luck. He went back to the water’s edge. The rocks were not disturbed. There were no signs of a struggle. The ducks were across the way. Sherlock stood still for a moment, calculating, then hustled across the pond. There was no Rosie here either. He looked around the pond some more, then went into the woods. He called his daughter’s name over and over, feeling out of control.  
He closed his eyes, and pictured his daughter at the pond’s edge in his mind’s eye. He tried to predict where his hyper duck focused, intelligent nine year old daughter would go. She would follow the ducks. He did that, and she wasn’t there.  
Finally he dug his phone out of his pocket, and called John. “John I’ve lost her.” He said, crying, looking around.  
“What are you talking about?” John asked.  
“Rosie!” Sherlock sighed, gasping for air. “Our daughter. I lost her John.”  
“She just got here. Where are you?” John rage-sniffed.  
“I’m at the park! I stepped out of the way for the mums-”  
“Rosie’s here. She’s safe. Just get home.” John said, taking control of the situation.  
Sherlock disconnected the phone, and took off for home like he was pursuing a criminal. He made it in record time. He ran up the 17 steps to the apartment, and flung the door open. Rosie was waiting for him with her arms crossed, and a very dour expression on her face.  
“Papa! You are so naughty! I was just feeding the ducks and you left without me!” She stomped her foot. “I could have gotten kidnapped!”  
“I stepped off the paved path so I didn’t get hit by the exercising mums.” Sherlock explained, hanging up his coat. He bent over, and picked up Rosie to hold her. She started wiggling.  
“Papa, put me down. I’m very angry with you! I had to cross two streets by myself! You’re very, very lucky that my flute player friend walked me home!”  
Sherlock placed her down on the floor. “I’m sorry, Rosie.”  
She crossed her arms, and looked at him. “I’m not ready to accept your apology, Papa. I’m angry at you, and I was so scared.”  
“I am livid with myself, Rosie. I failed you and I shouldn’t have.”  
“But, Sherlock, Rosie did the right thing. She got lost from her adult, so she found a trusted friend or policeman.” John pointed out.  
“Good job, Ro.” Sherlock said, trying to smile.  
He came over, kissed John on the head, and headed into the bedroom. He slumped down on the bed, and started crying again. He had lost his daughter in London. Fucking London. He took a deep breath, then let it out. He started counting by sevens. There was a knock on the bedroom. “Hey?” John asked.  
“Hi love.” Sherlock sniffled. “I didn’t mean to lose our daughter.”  
“I know. She got stuck on the ducks.” John said. “She went down to Mrs. H’s for the weekend. So we can go on our date.”  
“Oh, John, I don’t want to.”  
“Too bad, love. We’ve already missed our dinner reservations. There’s a cab downstairs.” John said, lacing his fingers into Sherlock’s. He tugged his husband up to his feet. Sherlock followed his husband down the seventeen steps. He knocked on Mrs. H’s door. He just wanted to say goodnight to his daughter. She came over to him, hugged him quickly.  
“Papa loves you, Rosie.”  
“I love you, Papa, but I’m still angry.” she said, disappearing into Mrs. H’s apartment.  
They went out to the car, and crawled in. The driver knew where to take them. The Strand Hotel, located just about at the city limits. Mycroft had helped John get the room for the weekend. They got out at the hotel. John had already checked them in so they headed to their room for the weekend.  
Sherlock hung up his Belstaff and his suit jacket on the back of the door. There were already suitcases in the room.  
“Why don’t you go get a shower, love? I’ll order you dumplings, and we’ll watch crap telly.”  
“That sounds nice, John. What will you do?”  
“Order the food, and wait for you to get done.” John smiled.  
“Oh, so you’re too mad for sex?”  
“No. I am mad at you, but today’s been a bit rough, so we’ll just hang out.” John smiled, then stood up on his tiptoes to kiss Sherlock chastely. “If you had to lose our daughter, today’s happenings were the best possible outcome.”  
“I do agree, but I’m just not ok with it.”  
“If you were ok with it, I’d think less of you.” John said, before kissing him again. He swatted at Sherlock’s bottom. “Go bathe.”  
After his shower, he felt refreshed. The dumplings had come, and they dug in. Most of the food, John tucked away in the same fridge. John went for a shower. He took his time in cleansing, grooming, and masturbating. (It wouldn’t do to rush tomorrow, and tomorrow he had more plans for Sherlock than Sherlock could conceive.) By the time John exited the bathroom, Sherlock had fallen asleep.


	2. Discussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has a very serious discussion with Sherlock about losing his daughter. Also this is part two, of three. It got away from me.  
> First published chapter of ANYTHING that has been Beta'd. My friend Holdt (who writes panty changing delicious stories) has reviewed this for your pleasure! 
> 
> THANK YOU [Holdt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holdt)

“I require a teapot full of tea.” Sherlock was saying the next morning. “Yes, it’s unorthodox, but I need tea and toast. No. None of that nonsense. Tea, jam, peanut butter, toast, knives, milk, sugar. That’s what I would like sent to the room. Can you accomplish that? I had assumed so. Make it happen.” Sherlock hung up the phone, and disappeared into the bathroom. 

When he came out, John was sitting up, pulling the blankets off himself. “Hot.” he said, eyeing Sherlock.

“I ordered tea and toast.”

“Heard.” John said, finally being free from the blankets. He stood up, and shuffled off to the bathroom. He voided his bladder, brushed his hair, and his teeth then came back out to Sherlock. He watched his husband pace back and forth. 

“I want to discuss yesterday.” 

“No. Not yet, my love.” John said. “We will talk about it, but I’m not ready.” He lied, smoothly. He was ready to talk about it, but he wanted Sherlock to be bound while John discussed it with him.

“What’s on the agenda today?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yes, my darling, husband.” John said, snagging him as he paced by. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s middle, and pulled him close to him. “I plan on turning your brain off. Is that agreeable to you, ‘Lock?” 

“Yes, Mr. Watson.” Sherlock said, agreeably. “First, toast?”

“I’ll dictate when.” John smiled. “You’re lucky I want tea.” John pulled his husband down on the bed with him. He kissed Sherlock’s temple, and ran his fingers through his curls. Sherlock buried his face in John’s neck, and gently nibbled along his pulse point. “Stop, my love. I don’t want to come too soon.”

“You’re coming today?” Sherlock asked, shocked.

“I plan on coming several times today. You on the other hand, I just haven’t decided.” John said, with an ambivalent smile. 

“Why did you smile like that? I’m mostly a good boy. I can come!” 

John chuckled, but didn’t respond as Sherlock stood up to pace more. “Love, please get your bathrobe on. I detest free shows.” His eyebrows suggested he was serious. John pulled Sherlock’s pillow in front of his crotch, and watched his husband shrug into the robe. “Shame those lovely scars of yours have to go away.” Sherlock shivered. “All in good time, my lover.” 

There was a knock on the door, and Sherlock scurried to answer it. A young brunette teenager nursing an obvious hangover brought in a cart. John smelt tea and toast, and felt overjoyed. He would need his energy today. The boy left quickly, and Sherlock hung up the “do not disturb” sign. Sherlock ripped his robe off, and poured his husband some tea. He made a plate for John and brought it over to him with a smile. His face said, ‘Look how compliant I am!’ 

John wrinkled his eyebrows, “How do I feel about you deducing what I want before I can tell you?”

“You hate it, John.” Sherlock said, lowering his head. 

“As we haven’t started, I believe you are in the clear, but please remember that or your punishment will be terrible.” John warned him. “Consider it your only warning.”

“Yes, sir.” Sherlock said, as his ears tinged pink. He had finished spreading peanut butter on one piece of toast, and started spreading jelly on the other. Those two pieces would bump against each other on the plate, but the jelly piece would never meet the peanut butter piece properly. He finished with the jelly piece, and started pouring his tea. He added sugar and milk to his cup. He grabbed his own plate and came back to bed. He snuggled in next to John. He gently placed the tea on the side table. He tucked into his plate.

“Eat up, my love.” John encouraged him, then kissed his temple. “I don’t want you getting grumpy.” Sherlock nodded. John laughed. “Please chew, my dear. If you die, you’re in so much trouble.”

Sherlock nodded, then swallowed hard. “I don’t want to die!” 

John chuckled darkly, but didn’t elaborate. “When you’re finished eating, I’d like you to get your blue scarf and  assume your sub position on the floor. Once you are down there, I will assume you are ready to start.” 

Sherlock nodded, wiping his mouth free of crumbs. “Before, we start, may I kiss my husband?”

John touched his husband’s cheek tenderly. He knew the only thing that upset Sherlock about playing was the lack of affection. Ever since they had got together, John was very liberal with the kisses and the snuggles. Something Sherlock craved more than he craved sex with John. John leaned into to kiss Sherlock, and their lips met for a few seconds. Those seconds felt like an infinity. All Sherlock could feel was John’s love pouring into him, and he soaked it up like a sponge. Sherlock broke the kiss first because he felt “filled up.” He turned back to his toast, and tucked in. John put his plate aside, and snuggled under Sherlock’s arm. He himself was feeling a little snuggly, so he might as well indulge. 

Sherlock finished his toast, and gathered his plate and tea cup. He took them back over to the cart. John held his up to Sherlock who eagerly took it. He placed the dirty dishes together on the tray. Sherlock disappeared to the bathroom. He voided his bladder. He brushed his teeth, and his curls. He washed his hands, then looked in the mirror to make sure he looked his best. 

“The scarf!” he reminded himself as he exited the bathroom. He thought about what he needed to do yet. There was nothing else he could do. He grabbed the scarf, and stood near John. “Excuse me, love.” Sherlock said, politely finally using those manners Mycroft taught him years ago. “May I have a pillow to kneel on?” 

John looked to his left, and picked one up. “Thank you for your kind question, my king. Absolutely.” He held it out to Sherlock, who sensed devilry when he heard it. John didn’t snatch the pillow away from Sherlock, he simply held it steady. Sherlock wrapped the scarf around his neck, but was able to get the pillow without a taunting. Sherlock relaxed, slightly. 

“John.” Sherlock said, after a flash of lightning. “Is there anything else I can do to make myself ready for you?”

John grinned in delight at his husband. He stood up, and came over to him. Gently he touched his husband’s cheek. “I’m very happy you thought of me after you did your best.” John paused a moment, to eye Sherlock. His curls were a bit wild. His breath was fresh.“I don’t think there’s anything you can do for me, lover. If you are ready, please take your position.” 

Sherlock sighed happily and lowered himself to his knees. He tucked his ankles under his bum, and placed his hands on his knees. He closed his eyes for a moment, then lowered his head. 

John smiled at his compliance. “Hello, my dearest heart.” John said, crouching down to his eyes. “Identify who we are.”

“You’re my master, Dr. John H. Watson whom I call ‘sir’. I’m your slut, and my name is Sherlock Holmes. But you typically call me boy or slut, sir.”

“Very good. Do you know your safe words?”

“Yes sir.” Sherlock nodded, then said quickly. “Green means go, everything is good. Yellow means go slow, or that I need a moment. Red means stop right fucking now.” John slapped Sherlock’s mouth for his unwarranted use of “fuck.” “I’m sorry, sir. I was using “fucking” to stress emphasis.” 

John tilted his husband’s chin up to look into his eyes. “I am not some street whore you picked up for the day. Save the vulgar language for your homeless network. Understood?”  Sherlock nodded his head in agreement. “One last rule, my love. You aren’t allowed to come until I’ve come twice. Do you think you can do that for me, my sweet cock slut?” John asked, as he gently stroked Sherlock’s cheek.

“Anything for you, my sir.” Sherlock said, enjoying his dear husband’s gorgeous eyes before they were turned away from him. Sherlock lowered his head again, and settled in. 

John smiled to himself, as he set to work. He took the dirty dishes off the cart, and placed them on the desk. “You’re such a compliant slut.” John complimented Sherlock as he walked past him after placing the dirty dishes down. John saw Sherlock’s chest swell with pride. “Yes, my dear peacock.” 

John walked over to the suitcase and pulled some toys out. The riding crop always traveled with them. He pulled a ball gag out too. He grabbed the lube and placed that on the tray. He disappeared to the bathroom, and came back with a pitcher of water. He flipped over the two remaining teacups over. He walked over to the air conditioning unit and flipped it on high. He looked over the array of toys, and grinned. “Slut.” John said, getting Sherlock’s attention. He knew he had it already but he had to refocus his lover on him. “If it should come to it, and your mouth is full, what is your safe word?” 

Sherlock snapped his fingers together, but didn’t say a word. 

“Good work, my proud peacock.” John walked over to the door, and locked it. John was still wearing his pajamas, and he removed them quickly. He grabbed the riding crop and tucked it between his lips. He walked behind Sherlock, and touched him gently on the shoulder. He used his free hand to place the riding crop at the ready. 

_ Ah, scar worship. _ Sherlock thought, trying to keep the smirk from his lips.

John pulled the scarf off Sherlock’s neck. He pulled Sherlock’s hands behind his back and quickly tied them together. John tugged, testing the scarf. It wasn’t too tight. John squeezed both of Sherlock’s hands, gratified at the answering squeeze he received back. John sat down on his arse, using his legs to touch Sherlock. Using his hands, John started with a gentle shoulder massage. Sherlock groaned as John worked his muscles, lulled into a false sense of security. Gently, carefully John worked his husband’s shoulders and back. 

Slowly, John leaned forward to nibble on a particularly sensitive scar in between his husband’s shoulder blades. He worked his lips up the scar and up his husband’s spine. He reached the long, creamy neck quickly. John nibbled and sucked on it. 

Sherlock moaned softly, then  _ Oh, fuck! Am I allowed? _ flew across his mind.  _ Silence, Holmes!  _ John scooted himself closer, and sat up on his knees to reach Sherlock’s sensitive ears. John fisted curls and pulled as he worked up Sherlock’s ear. He bit, licked, and sucked on it. Sherlock couldn’t help the sounds escaping his lips. 

“Silence, you slut.” John said, pulling on the curls again. He reached under Sherlock’s arm, and found his erect nipple. Turning the AC on had done it’s trick.  John brushed his rough fingers against it. Sherlock was chewing his lip in frustration. 

_ His ear, the hair pulling, and the nipple? Jesus John. _

John giggled in Sherlock’s ear, as he licked and bit. A particularly sharp bite made Sherlock yelp. 

“That’s it.” John growled, standing up. He walked over to the cart, and grabbed the ball gag. “I tried to trust you. That shows me what happens when a slut goes to my head.” John stood behind Sherlock, and pulled his head back. He forced the ball gag into Sherlock’s mouth with a bit of a fight. John grabbed a fistful of hair, harder than he had intended. 

“I said be quiet, you boisterous slut.” John forced his face forward. He let go of Sherlock’s hair, and stood up. He bent over and grabbed the riding crop. John ran the riding crop over Sherlock’s shoulders. He trailed it down Sherlock’s spine, and over his sumptuous arse. Sherlock’s body arched into the crop. John smiled cruelly. 

“Now, I could pretend that you’re in trouble for talking, but that’s not my style.” John lined up the crop, and swung at Sherlock’s back. “You’re.” He said, through gritted teeth. He punctuated each word with a thwack! of the crop. A neat little wrist flick, covering Sherlock’s back with red marks. “In. Trouble. Because. You. Lost. Our. Daughter.” John said, panting a bit. “I’m. furious. With. You.” Sherlock panted through the pain. He loved the quick hits, then the soothing relief of cool air. “We. Missed. Dinner. I. Deserve. Better.” John said, whacking him over and over on his scarred back. John threw the riding crop down, and lowered himself to Sherlock’s level.

John caught his gaze on purpose. Sherlock’s eyes had tears in them. 

“You fucked up, my boy.” John said, grabbing his curls and pulling his head to John’s face. “Don’t you ever fucking do that again.” He said, searching Sherlock’s eyes for the promise he wouldn’t speak. He saw it, and gently kissed Sherlock’s forehead. “Now, my pet.” John said, sighing. He kissed Sherlock’s nose, then his chin, and throat. Sherlock tried to moan around the gag, but there was no way for sound to escape. John grinned wickedly, and leaned over over Sherlock’s erect cock. He licked at it carefully, then looked up at Sherlock through his lashes. Sherlock was a dish. His eyes blown wide in lust, panting around the ball gag. 

John sucked Sherlock’s cock into his mouth with an audible slurp. Sherlock moaned against the ball gag, trying to beg John wordlessly not to suck his cock. John received the message, and completely ignored it. Sherlock struggled against his restraint. John loudly moaned, as he bobbed up and down on his toy’s leaking cock. John used his hands to fondle Sherlock’s ball sack. Sherlock was heavily panting as John worked.

_ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. God. John. Have-fuck. Be kind. Fuckfuckfuck. Snap, you moron! _ came another voice in his head.  _ Put your thumb on the pad of your middle finger and move them in opposite directions! Do it! If you come, John will be fucking furious. Fuck. John. Fuck. _ Sherlock struggled to snap his fingers together. The first time it wasn’t very loud, so he tried again. John heard it and sat back. John grabbed Sherlock’s face with both hands. 

“Don’t come. Master your body. I know you can.” John said, then switched his voice to a purr. “Do it for me, Sherlock.” 

_ To make pancakes, you need flour, vanilla, water, milk, eggs, salt, you need to measure some shit. _ Sherlock panted, feeling his orgasm retreating.  _ You mix it all together and let it rest overnight, _ he thought as he regained control of himself. He sighed around the ball gag, and nodded to John.

“Good work, my boy.” John said, kissing his forehead. Suddenly he pulled the ball gag out of Sherlock’s mouth and down to his neck. Sherlock sat there panting, gulping air unimpeded. His eye caught John’s hand slowly stroking himself off. Sherlock huffed, and crawled over to John’s cock. “What do you want, slut?” John asked, noticing that he was closer. 

“Your cock, sir. In my mouth.” 

John groaned at his words, then pulled Sherlock over to him by his curls. Sherlock eagerly swallowed him down. Groaning, John tilted his hips up to meet Sherlock. Sherlock quickly set about mouth-fucking John’s hard and leaking cock. 

_ Fuck, John. Your cock is so delicious. _

John moaned as Sherlock worked. 

“Faster.” he said, tugged on the curls again. Sherlock whimpered, but complied. John’s mouth was marking and biting any skin it could find. “Fuck, Sherlock.” John said, with a groan. He came down Sherlock’s throat. Sherlock sucked John’s orgasm from him with some pride. Roughly, John pushed Sherlock off his cock. “Position.” he said through his post-orgasmic haze. Instantly Sherlock got into his sub position. Sherlock’s eyes were downcast, but he sensed his husband’s slow return to earth. 

John sighed, feeling good. He looked at Sherlock in the perfect sub position, and for just a moment, he grinned at him. 

“What a good boy!” John crooned, placing his hands on Sherlock’s knees. John leaned over, and kissed his lips. “I’m so proud of your mastery, but I know my slut is a good one. He’d do anything to make me happy.” John said. He looked at his husband for just a minute adoringly. 

“Ok, my love.” John said, standing up. He walked over to the water jug. He filled two tea cups up with water. John drank his quickly, and brought the cup over to Sherlock. “Here, boy.” John said, tipping the water cup into his mouth. Eager, Sherlock drank it down.  “Would my sweet boy like more?” John asked, stroking Sherlock’s head gently. He felt his husband nod. John went and filled the cup up again. 

He brought it over to Sherlock. With a slightly evil grin, he tipped it over Sherlock’s mouth just a bit too high. The water fell down Sherlock’s mouth, chin, and throat. John slowly lowered himself onto his knees. He grabbed a fistful of Sherlock’s curls and pulled his husband’s bare throat to him. John used his tongue to chase the cool water down Sherlock’s body. Sherlock was chewing his lip, trying to be quiet feeling the weight of the gag around his throat. John groaned appreciatively. “Good lord, Sherl.” he said, tugging on the curls idly. Sherlock was panting in agreement.

“You know how poor my refractory period is, Sherl, so what should we do until I’m ready again?” John was looking Sherlock up and down. “Do you have any suggestions, my love?”

Sherlock thought about it for a moment, then much calmer than he felt he said, “I’d like to do whatever you would like to do, my sir.” 

“Oh, what a sweet slut you are!” John exclaimed with a grin. John stood up, and paused a minute to think. “I’d like you lean forward. I’m hungry.” John said, with a giggle. He untied Sherlock’s knots, and allowed him to stretch a bit. John pulled Sherlock over to the edge of the bed. He pushed him down. His hands were above his head. John tied Sherlock’s right wrist with the scarf, looped it around the foot of the bed, and tied it around Sherlock’s left wrist. John walked behind his husband to admire his pink striped arse. John used his hands to spread Sherlock’s thighs apart. John grabbed the lube first, then got down on his knees behind Sherlock. 

“How are your hands, boy?” 

“Good. Thank you, sir.” Sherlock said, arching his back and pressing his arse up for John. 

“Do you think you can be quiet whilst I eat?” 

“Yes, sir!” 

John smiled to himself, and crawled closer to Sherlock’s rounded arse. John used both his hands to pull Sherlock’s arse cheeks apart. John leaned down, with his tongue sticking out. Tentatively he ran his tongue over the crack, gliding over the pucker that he was craving. Sherlock’s entire body trembled. John hummed happily, then slowly starting licking at the pucker. Gradually he worked his tongue inside, running it all around the muscle. John was enjoying himself, and he could feel his husband’s body quaking under his tongue. 

He pulled away from Sherlock’s arse. Sherlock squeaked his displeasure. “You’re doing so well, my love.” John reminded him, as he slicked his hands. He loved preparing his husband. John slid a finger into Sherlock’s arse, and then pulled it back out. He slid his finger in a few times, before he added a second finger. He pumped those fingers in and out of Sherlock’s arse, while he reached around to stroke Sherlock’s cock with his other slicked up hand. 

“Mmm. It seems like your cock is already leaking. I shouldn’t have wasted the lube.” John worked his hands in tandem, listening to his husband’s erratic breathing in delight. John rested his face on Sherlock’s bottom, and started biting it. Sherlock jumped when John’s mouth made contact.

_ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Jawwwwwn.  _

Sherlock pushed his arse back onto John’s fingers. John groaned, happily, and started scissoring Sherlock’s hole. Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek and chewed on it hard. “Is my slut close to coming?” John asked, stopping all motion. 

_ God damn it, Jawn. _

“Very much so, sir. Thank you for noticing and protecting me from myself.”

John chuckled, and removed both his hands from Sherlock’s body. He had decided that he’d very much like to come now as his own cock was hard, reddened, and leaking. John lined up his cock with Sherlock’s hole and jammed his cock into his husband, groaning in pleasure. 

Sherlock whined, voice tight with want. John gripped both of Sherlock’s hips as he drove into him. Over and over, he would pull almost the whole way out, and then slam back in. John was groaning and moaning loudly. Sherlock’s body felt wound tight like a clock. His need to orgasm was consuming him.

“Fucking a, slut. Your arse is pure perfection.” Sherlock whined, and stretched his lithe body out to rock his arse onto John’s cock. John was relentless. “God, boy. I’m going to come in your arse.” John predicted with a grin. Sherlock moaned, then whined as he bit another spot on his cheek. “Shh, shh.” John panted, trying to sound reassuring. “I will have enough energy to get you off.” He really had no problem with getting Sherlock off, but it was hard to think of anything other than his own orgasm. John tilted his hips up—once, twice, thrice. He was coming, panting,  pulsing over and over again, cock buried deep in Sherlock’s arse. He reached around and stroked Sherlock off with a few sharp tugs. Sherlock was flying with him. They were both gone in the ether. 

John finally pulled his soft cock out of his husband’s arse, and sat back. He touched Sherlock’s shoulders gingerly. “Are you ok, my love?” John asked, slowly getting himself up.

Sherlock nodded his head, then mumbled something. 

“Say it again, my love.” 

“You tied me to the bed.” Sherlock said, again. It wasn’t an answer to John’s question, but it was something.

“Did you like it? Would you like to do it again?” John asked when he got back from the bathroom with two towels. He wiped Sherlock’s arse as best as he was able, then his own cock. John set to work untying his husband.

“Yes, John, I did and I would love to do it again, but next time we’ll use cuffs I stole from Lestrade.” 

John leaned over his husband and untied him from the bed. Slowly Sherlock sat up. John braced him the whole time to prevent a head rush. John gently cleaned Sherlock off, and helped him stand up. Sherlock sat on the bed, while John was looking for his PJ pants. 

“I’m hungry, John.” Sherlock stated, wrapping himself up in a blanket. 

“Hey, you can’t sleep just yet. I need you to check your arse.”

“No, John.” John sounded like Jawn. It made John smile.  “I feel smashing.” Sherlock giggled with exhaustion. “Smashed. Drop the previous ING ending and add ED.” 

John giggled too. “My sweet husband.” he kissed Sherlock’s head. “I’d like you to take me out to dinner tonight.” 

“Huh?” Sherlock asked, not understanding. 

John smiled, and snuggled in next to his husband. John kissed his husband’s neck. “Do you need to take a quick nap?” John asked, knowing he did.

“Mmm. Will you stay with me?” Sherlock asked, threading all his limbs through his husband’s. 

“Yes, my love.” John chuckled, but closed his eyes. He didn’t bother setting an alarm because he knew his husband would wake in less than 2 hours. Sherlock was humming because John could feel his chest rumbling. 


End file.
